After the Last Autumn
After getting married, I followed my wife to the desert to help build up a remote research base.
After months of severe drought, I applied for 17 ounces of water just to wash my hair.
But as station chief, June Sheffield rejected me without hesitation. "The water supply has to go toward cultivating the samples first. You need to learn how to tough it out."
Then the next moment, I came across a new post the intern had uploaded on social media.
'Wanted to try an outdoor bath, and Ms. Sheffield approved a whole ton of water without even blinking! She even set up the bath tent herself. I'm so happy.'
Furious, I went straight to confront June Sheffield.
Usually cold and distant, she softened her tone for once. "Conditions here are harsh. If Morgan can't handle it and decides to leave, the base will end up even more short-staffed. You're one of the core staff members. Once the project pays out, your share alone will be at least four million. An intern like him doesn't get that kind of treatment."
In the end, I swallowed my anger.
That was, until the first-quarter project wrapped up.
When there was still no movement in my account, I nervously contacted headquarters.
The moment I gave my identity, the person on the other end sounded stunned. "You're just an intern. What project bonus are you talking about? And the head of the research department has always been Morgan Wilder."
I stared at June's signature on the personnel registration list and suddenly understood everything.
Without another word, I packed my bags and booked a flight home.
Life in the desert was bitterly cold and unforgiving.
This time, I was not staying.